She's the Boss
by McInstry
Summary: Red heels. Tall, red heels with gold hugging her delicate feet. And despite the fact that he's never been one to fetishize feet, he wants nothing more than to kneel before her and kiss her ankles. - 4th standalone in 'Things She Wore' series.


Author's Notes: This one was completed around 100 years ago and I finally got around to polishing it and putting up. I'm sorry. Be expecting some small things from me within the next century ;). This one is the 4th standalone in the 'Things She Wore' series. The shoes are Louis Vuitton and are from the 2012/13 Fall Collection. Sadly, I can't find them on the website, so you're gonna have to trust me.

Jer832 edited this way back when. Thanks to her for the patience and guidance.

Any suggestions for this series are welcome. Happy reading. :)

* * *

He fiddles with the folder before him, fondling the edges and letting out a loud sigh. Everyone around him is waiting patiently, even Mickey who normally hates these meetings as much as he does. He attempts to act calm, leaning back into his chair and crossing his ankles beneath the table.

This doesn't work. The Doctor twitches his ankle and taps out a rhythm on the slick surface of the table, reminiscing of a time where he never had to sit still.

The door to the board room opens and Pete walks in, flanked by Rose. They sit and the Doctor shoots Rose a grin. She smiles back, all soft lips and twinkling eyes.

Time crawls on with people from each department yammering on about expenses and such. It's all very boring to him. That, and the late hour had him agitated. He just wanted to go – as well as all the other employees. And then Rose stands to speak, a ray of sunshine breaking through the thick clouds of monotony.

Rose smoothes her hand over her dress to remove imaginary wrinkles and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. She moves in front of the computer, biting her lip as she clicks away at the keys. The large screen flashes brightly with a view of the London sky, and Rose goes on, pointing out anomalies visible due to the recent alien activity in the area.

But then she moves out of the way of the table, and his mouth goes dry. She's… Oh, Rassilon.

His brain stops working as blood diverts to another part of his body. Her black dress is modest with three-quarter sleeves and a work-appropriate neckline and length. A little gold belt cinches the waist he so often wraps his arms around. His eyes rove over her body, unsure of where to settle until they meet her feet.

There's a sudden ache in his chest, and he panics, wondering if he's having a heart attack. Luckily it passes, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes remain glued to her feet.

Red heels. Tall, red heels with gold hugging her delicate feet. And despite the fact that he's never been one to fetishize feet, he wants nothing more than to kneel before her and kiss her ankles. Or maybe let her wear them as she rides him… Or possibly feel them dig into his back as he drives into her…

Oh, _so_ many possibilities that have his head reeling and human heart pounding. He's so distracted that he doesn't even notice when Rose asks him to get up to help her with the presentation.

He flounders; he has a bit of a problem that would become evident the second he stood. "I-," he glances around quickly at all the people who already think he's mental. Oh, well. Now they're going to think he's certifiable. "I have to go… do a thing…. Elsewhere."

And he practically runs out of the room, not paying attention to the gasps or Rose's confused face.

* * *

He picks the lock to Rose's office despite the fact that he has a key. Old habits die hard when one is under stress. Once he closes the door behind him, he lets himself take a deep breath.

Oh, Rassilon. Those shoes were doing things to his head.

He slides down the wall, groaning and banging his head against it as he sprawls out on the floor. He's such a mess.

He tries so hard to just will away his little problem, but it refuses to go away. With a disgusted groan, he unzips his trousers. The loosening of the constricting wool makes his vision swim. Despite his earlier reproach, he is grateful that he'd forgone pants this morning.

He grips himself tightly, somewhat angry at his stupid human hormones that caused him to spring an erection like an adolescent of 93. His thumb plays over the tip of his penis as he creates a rhythm that his hand knows _very _well.

It's – regretfully _and_ thankfully – moments later that he's coming. He's breathing heavily and cursing as he remembers that he's at work.

He bangs his head against the wall again before hefting himself up to root through Rose's closet to find their black duffel bag. Rose always keeps extra clothes for them after that one time he'd set the entire R&D department on fire.

He replaces his light blue oxford with a grey one, praying that Rose won't notice that he's changed shirts in the middle of the day. After stuffing his soiled shirt under his extra pair of jeans in the duffel, he slumps back against the wall once more.

* * *

He doesn't know how long he just sits there, but eventually the door opens. There's the muffled sound of footsteps on carpet. Papers are rustled and there are the tapping sounds of someone moving things around on the glass desk off to his left.

He doesn't turn or look up.

"Why'd you do that to me?"

He bangs his head against the wall again, his eyes screwed shut. "I'm sorry," he apologizes. He knows it's futile, but he does it anyway.

"Sorry doesn't explain why you just ran out on me." Rose doesn't sound angry, and that's the worst part. She _never_ sounds angry. She just gets disappointed. And that never fails to wring his heart.

"I had… a thing I had to take care of." She makes a soft humming noise, and it's obvious she doesn't believe him.

"You're wearing a different shirt."

Of course she'd notice. How stupid he was to think Rose wouldn't notice.

"The other one's a mess."

Rose steps in front of him and all he can see are those shoes. He just stares at them, transfixed, as Rose shifts her weight from one leg to the other. Her nearly-black toe nails peek out to mock him. He can practically hear them saying, _'look at us! We haven't disappointed her! _And_ we get to touch these shoes!'_

"What'd you do to mess it up?"

He swallows thickly, eyes glued to those shoes and the legs attached to them. "Had a bit of a spill," he admits, licking his lips. His entire mouth feels dry, and he doesn't know why.

"Doctor…" Rose sighs and sits in one of the plush chairs in front of her desk. She crosses her legs primly, and he knows he's doomed as she bobs her left foot, shoe hanging off her big toe. "You _can_ tell me what's wrong. 'm not mad that you left." Rose's shoe drops, and her toes root for it, fondling it before slipping it back on. "I just wish you'd tell me what happened."

She was breaking down his resolve for sure. He just isn't sure how to broach the topic of his teenage-esque outburst.

"Doctor…D'ya like my shoes?" Rose asks suddenly, and his eyes fly up to meet hers. She nods to herself and smoothes a hand over her dress. "I was thinking of you when I bought them," Rose admits quietly. He swallows and follows the lines of her legs. He lingers – Rassilon, how his eyes love to linger – on her chest and those fine-boned clavicles. Oh, is she gorgeous. He looks up to her face, blinking when he meets her gaze. "I was thinking how I'd be closer to your height, that it'd be easier to steal a kiss at work," Rose pauses, licking her lips, " I was thinking that maybe you'd like me in them."

"I love you in them," he acknowledges hoarsely.

A slow smile creeps over her lips. "Is that what caused… all this?" She bites her lip in that way that she does when she's self-conscious, and he groans inwardly. He nods, fingers running over the soft carpet. "I'm sorry. I didn't know they'd cause _this_ kind of reaction." Rose smiles a bit, seemingly pleased with herself in a purely feminine way.

He just shakes his head. It's not as if she maliciously set out for him to make a fool of himself.

"But you did run out on me without an explanation or so much as a glance." Rose adds. He hangs his head, chastised. "Maybe you can make it up to me," she offers, her head dipping and eyes looking straight into his. Her face is flushed and her fingernails – painted a pale, sunny gold in contrast to her dark toenails – are picking at the hem of her dress.

"I," he swallows convulsively, eyes devouring the sight of her, "I'd love to."

Rose holds out her hand, and he takes a deep breath before moving towards her on his knees. He kneels before her, Converse-clad feet tucked under his body. She looks down at him, eyes wide. Shadows from the setting sun play across her body, and he licks his lips, entranced.

He puts a hand on her knee, stroking the smooth skin there with his calloused thumb. Rose shivers. He trails his hand down her leg until he reaches her foot. He brings it to his lips, kissing the inside of her right ankle. Rose's hand touches his hair, and he gives her a hooded glance. He feels her breath catch as he brushes soft kisses up her ankle, calf, and the inside of her knee.

"Can you move forward?" he requests softly. Rose complies, her dress getting caught beneath her thighs as she scoots towards him on the chair. His hands cup the spot just below her bum, taking the brunt of her weight as his thumbs wiggle upwards to stroke against the soft inner part of her thighs, easing them apart gently. Rose shimmies her dress up a little more, giving him a peek at a pair of sinfully red knickers. He swallows again, eyes darting up to meet hers. Rose's hand strokes his face, fingers moving over his lips. He kisses them softly, leaning into her touch like a kitten. "Can I take these knickers off?" he asks breathily, tugging at the red silk with trembling fingers. Rose nods, patting his head as she lets him pull the miniscule material off her body.

She threads her fingers in his hair, moving his head closer to her. He presses his nose against the warm skin of her inner thigh, looking up at her with tender compliance. He kisses her skin, closing his eyes as he takes in her scent.

Rose smells like his body wash – she'd used it because they'd run out of her usual peach scented soap – and heated arousal. He just wants to wrap around her and be wrapped around her all at once. Instead, he just kisses her slick lower lips. When he pulls back to meet her gaze, his lips are dewy with her flavor. He licks them slowly, savoring her warm taste.

He watches her chest rise and fall, her breath stuttering noticeably as he goes back to his task. His hands go back under her thighs, pulling them over his shoulders. Rose acquiesces, leaning further into the cushy chair and angling her hips towards him. Her thighs warm his ears, and her fingers wind into his hair, twisting the strands tightly as he increases pressure against her little button.

"Oooooh," he hears her breath out, "'tha's brilliant." He smiles into her skin, nudging her damp opening with his tongue. Rose lets out a low moan as he traces her walls with the tip of his tongue. Her flavor coats his mouth, and he rests his forehead against her skin, just inhaling her. Rose strokes his hair, murmuring loving affirmations as he proceeds to pleasure her with his tongue and lips.

When he brings a finger in to play, stroking her soft walls, she sobs out his name, holding him tight to her. He caresses her thighs and gently laps at her button, bringing her down slowly.

Rose eventually eases her grip on his hair, her legs falling from their perch on his shoulders. Her eyes are hazy and warm, her smile sweet and soft. She stands, dress falling back to its original arrangement. She offers him a hand, tugging him up, before pushing him into the chair. Rose unbuttons his trousers then undoes the zipper slowly, torturing him with the gradual release of tension.

"You're gonna need to change again," she says. He shakes his head; he's past the point of caring about something like that. He takes her by the hips, silently begging her to relieve him. Rose smiles and turns her back to him. "Mind giving a hand?" she asks quietly, shimmying slightly to get his attention on to the gold zipper at the top of her dress. He gulps and reaches up, fingers shaking with anticipation as he grasps the tiny piece of metal. The slightest tug has the zip travelling down the winding, shiny path that curls artfully along her back. Rose's red bra peeks out from under the black dress.

And then she lets the dress fall and she's clad in nothing but that bra and those fantastic red heels. She turns to face him.

He can't breathe.

Rose glances at him, eyes bright and lips curling in a slow smile. She holds on to an armrest and climbs into his lap. Her legs hang just under the armrest openings, thighs tight around his waist. She looks down at him from her perch, bright eyes framed by dark lashes. He moves his hands to the small of her back, touching the soft, warm skin with care; there's nothing he loves more than to see her like this.

They both shift so he's at her entrance. Rose's breath is hot against the high point of his cheek as she slides down his length. His hands surround her waist, thumbs digging in as he grits his teeth against the onslaught of pleasure.

Rose rocks into him, her breath hitching sweetly. He reaches for her face, pulling her back so he can look her in the eyes. She meets his gaze. He leans in for a kiss, and she follows eagerly, lips pressing to his warmly. A humming noise vibrates from her chest to his as they kiss, pleasure radiating from them both.

"Love you," she murmurs. Her eyelashes tickle his cheek as she draws away to kiss his jaw. He responds in kind, voice tight as he pushes into her from below. Rose's hands travel to his shoulders, and she uses him as leverage. The lace of her bra rubs against his shirt as she moves on him in sharp, pleasure-seeking movements.

It's very soon that he can't put up with it anymore. He catches her hips and guides her, slamming her down on him. Rose gasps, fingernails jabbing into his skin as he continues on with his rough actions. Her head falls against his shoulder, her teeth scraping his skin as she groans. Her groans turn to whines and whimpers, and he lets his head fall back, clenching his teeth as he tries to keep from coming right then and there.

Rose's lips brush over his skin as her inner muscles pulse around him. Her heart is racing against his chest and her skin is so hot. He groans out her name through clenched teeth as he comes.

* * *

When he falls back down to earth, Rose is pressing kisses to his neck. Her fingers stroke the sweaty hair at his nape. Their breathing is still heavy, but the atmosphere around them is clam.

"That was… amazing," he murmurs in to her skin. Rose hums in agreement and tightens her arms around him.

"If this is the reaction these shoes get, I guess I shouldn't show you the blue ones. At least not at work."

He pulls back to look at her face. "What blue ones?"

She gives him a lethargic smile and waggles her eyebrow. "Wouldn't you like to know."


End file.
